


Head in the Dust, Feet in the Fire

by Shining_star_rae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Boba Fett is a clone, Boba hates him, He may be unaltered genetically, Hondo Ohnaka is a concerned uncle, I haven't watched that episode in a while, Jango got Boba after he was a tubby, but the Kaminoans implanted the slave chips in even the tubbies, but then, he hates everything, is tubby the right word???, whether he believes it or not, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shining_star_rae/pseuds/Shining_star_rae
Summary: Boba Fett knows in his bones, in his Kar’ta (heart) that he is different from the clones. His buir chose him. He is unaltered, he doesn’t grow physically old as quickly- he grows older and learns more about the galaxy than the clones were ever allowed to. Boba has a name and not a number. He was different. He was.Boba is thirteen years old when a voice whispers in his head ‘Good Soldiers Follow Orders’.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Head in the Dust, Feet in the Fire

It started the way most bad things start.

There was a tension in the air that Boba couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d been on Florrum for several days now and, as always when in the care of Hondo Ohnaka, Boba was on guard in case the pirates crew were up to some mischief. They liked messing with Boba, with Boba’s things, with his buir’s ship. Hondo always watched him when they did these things. Trying to gauge his reaction. Maybe the pirate was trying to see his father in him. They’d been friends or at least acquaintances he knew. But Boba also knew he had very little of his father in him. (Jango Fett had been sturdy, clever, larger than life. Boba was a newly turned teenager and none of these things). Hondo never stepped in to help him until Boba had a gun in his hands and was screaming threats at his crew. He tried not to feel bad when the pirate looked at him with disappointment. Hondo wasn’t going to be around today though, so he’d have to keep look out even more diligently for the Weequay’s crew members.

He contributes the tension in the air to that.

He finishes getting dressed on the _Slave l,_ the only place he felt safe on this fucking planet, before walking down towards the dining hall Hondo had. It was quieter than usual. The walk over there. Usually there’d be laughter or shouting, noises from machines and droids, blaster practice somewhere. Now all that Boba could hear was a soft murmuring from the dining hall itself and his footsteps on the dirt floor.

Many of the ships that had been next to his last night were gone. But Hondo hadn’t sent everyone out for his raid. Something must have gone wrong. Perhaps the target had been larger than they’d expected, fought back more. Hondo probably just needed reinforcements.

Yeah. That was it.

Boba was starting to get a headache.

One of Hondo’s crew members scurried out of the dining hall. Boba noticed the ring of bruises on the man’s face. That wasn’t unusual to find on someone on Florrum, so Boba made his way in. There was a circle of people whispering to each other. Sitting above them all on a platform was the throne Hondo had built for himself. The throne was wooden, a shine of gold on the joints, and fur blankets thrown across it. Boba knew from experience it reeked of alcohol. And possibly other stuff he did _not_ want to think about. Sitting on the throne was Hondo himself. That wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here today.

Boba blinked.

When he opens his eyes, he realizes he must have pushed his way through the throng of people. Boba knew people who sometimes blacked out and couldn’t remember anything they did for the next few minutes, but he’d never been one of them. He frowned. He felt the tension in the air rise and tried not to tremble. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with _him. No_ , he reassured himself. _I’m fine._ Nothing had been wrong with him yesterday. So nothing was wrong with him today. He shook off his thoughts. Everyone was silent now, watching him look at the spectacle that had them all enraptured.

In front of him was a man rocking back and forth on his knees. He was muttering to himself. Repeating a mantra over and over.

_"Good Soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good-“_

“Why is he saying that?” he asked to Hondo. But at the sound of his voice, the man looked up and Boba froze. That was a clone. There was a clone on Florrum.

“This poor, broken, _clearly_ delirious man was found just outside the atmosphere. A damaged pod. Very little oxygen, must be the cause of his crazed state. Lucky for us there were many medical supplies! A droid! Bacta!”

“He’s not a man,” Boba responded automatically. He – it – was a clone. Clones were not real people. They would serve their purpose, as his buir used to say, and then they would be decommissioned. That is not the life of a person. That is the life a clone. No better than a droid.

Hondo shrugged. “Man, not-man, I find that I do not particularly care. We found what we wanted. With little expense to us and a much closer target too!”

“Then why is everyone gone.”

Hondo quieted. Finally, he said, “Gathering information.”

Boba waited for more information himself. Hondo liked to brag about the things he learned. The Weequay loved the sound of his own voice. It was confusing when he didn’t continue. Boba’s headache started to throb at his right temple.

“Information on what?”

Everyone remained silent and Boba hated all of them. He was thirteen and a bounty hunter. He’d been taking care of himself since he was eight. He’d been in an adult jail for murder and had gone through things there that no person in any condition should ever have to go through. He did not need to be treated like a child.

He wrenched his attention back onto the clone. “Why are you here?”

He wasn’t expecting the obviously crazed clone to speak anything coherent other than his earlier phrase, so he was shocked when he – it – began to crawl closer.

“Cadet. Cadet. Give me your blaster. The traitors must be killed.”

“I’m not a cadet,” he kicked the clone’s hand away from his legs. “What traitors?”

The clone groaned. “Everyone here. Everyone here.”

“Why are they traitors?”

“They harbor sympathy for the Jedi.”

Boba scowled at that. He hated the Jedi and hated that what the clone said was true. Hondo boasted often that his best friend was a Jedi, though he never said who. Hondo and the pirate crew, some of them at least, had even helped Jedi younglings escape. After they had captured them and originally planned to sell them to the highest bidder, but still. They liked the Jedi. Then the clone’s words registered, and Boba frowned. The clones served the Jedi, loved them even. He remembered Ponds, the commander of Mace Windu’s battalion that Auro Sing had killed in front of him. They hadn’t known he was a commander until after the fact. Sing had been furious she couldn’t use him for information.

“Did you defect from the army? How are they traitors?”

“All Jedi must be hunted down and killed, per the orders of the Supreme Chancellor. Any sympathizers must also be killed. They are traitors to the Republic and traitors to the new Empire.”

Boba’s head felt like it was going to kill him. His body was shivering and he could feel sweat gathering on his brow. He’d had dreams about killing the Jedi many times before. His buir had the name ‘Jedi Killer’ attached to him and Boba aspired to be everything that his buir had been. Boba had no qualms about other people hunting down Jedi either. But something was wrong. There was no empire. And the Jedi would never betray the Republic. Most clones would never betray the Jedi.

His blaster felt heavy on his thigh. _Good Soldiers follow orders._ He blinked at the whisper in his ear. That was strange.

He didn’t remember unholstering his blaster. It was hanging at his side now. _Good Soldiers Follow-_

No.

“Boba.” Hondo was standing now. Behind the prisoner. The clone was muttering that phrase again, rocking back and forth, back and forth. He was staring up at Boba though. Hate and pain in his eyes. It almost looked like he wanted to scream.

Boba had never seen Hondo look so grim.

He tried to say something to the Weequay. He didn’t know what, maybe a reassurance. He must have caught a fever from someone, that was all. He’d been fine yesterday though. He’d been fine yester- Words crawled up his throat and Boba wanted to throw up. “Good Soldiers Follow-”

NO!

“What order, clone?” Hondo demanded. “What are you talking about?”

The crowd was backing away from the three of them. No doubt this was going to be the talk of the planet for days to come.

“The order, the order. Kill all the Jedi. Kill all Jedi sympathizers. Order 66.”

Boba would later swear he could hear a click inside his brain. He didn’t know what Order 66 meant. He didn’t know if that was something the clones all learned in the modules that he’d never been allowed to attend, but suddenly his knew his objective was to kill the Jedi outside of just Mace Windu. They were traitors to the Republic, a threat to the empire and the Supreme Chancellor. He had to follow orders. Hondo Ohnaka and his filthy crew of pirates were Jedi sympathizers and had to be eliminated.

He raised his blaster. _No, no, no. What am I doing?!_

Hondo shot him first.

Boba Fett knows in his bones, in his Kar’ta (heart) that he is different from the clones. His buir _chose_ him. He is unaltered, he doesn’t grow physically old as quickly- he grows older and learns more about the galaxy than the clones were ever allowed to. Boba has a name and not a number. He was different. He was.

When Boba wakes up several days after being stunned, he felt sick. His head was throbbing and when he reached up to rub it, he realized his hair had been shaved down. Then Hondo enters his cell – and he was in a cell, by the Manda what had he _done_ – and the Weequay explains that with the medical droid they had scavenged from the clone’s ship, they had preformed a surgery. The droid was an expert, trained in brain surgery. It was perfectly safe.

There was a chip in his brain, however. A slave chip. It had activated when in close quarters with the other clone. 

“Why was it there?” he croaks out.

The droid had been stolen from a Jedi Star Destroyer, Hondo says, by a clone who’s slave chip had not activated. Another clone had followed him into the escape pod, having just killed the Jedi, he hoped to kill another traitor. He had managed to do so. But not before damaging the ship with his blaster bolts and rendering it useless. Hondo Ohnaka and his crew had found the clone and the droid and the Bacta the morning they had planned for a raid. The droid had explained all this to Hondo when he had asked. It did not know how the first clone had known about the inhibitor chips. The clone Boba had seen had also undergone the surgery. When he’d woken up, he’d shot himself. They don’t know where he got the gun. Really, those clones were quite clever.

“No,” Boba groans, tears in his eyes. “Why was _it there?!”_

Hondo looks at him, blank faced. Boba hates it. He hates him. “Jango Fett hated the Jedi. I suppose his clones have finally served their purpose.”

Boba wonders if his father knew he was a demagolka.


End file.
